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Voice of India

75-year career, 50,000 songs in 14 languages — statistics, however, cannot define the greatness of Lata Mangeshkar, whose 95th birth anniversary falls this week
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Playback singer Lata Mangeshkar. Reuters
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It’s aptly said that comparisons are often odious because ‘har zarra apni jagah pe aaftaab hai’ (every particle is the sun in its own right). Yet, one name that has become almost synonymous with playback singing is that of Lata Mangeshkar, whose 95th birth anniversary falls on September 28.

Her voice was one of the unifying elements of the people of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and Nepal. Her contribution to the Indian music industry in a career spanning eight decades gained her honorifics such as the ‘Queen of Melody’, ‘Nightingale of India’ and ‘Voice of the Millennium’. Years ago, an Urdu critic of film music wrote, “Aawaaz jo dil ke andar tak utar kar chhoo jaaye rooh ko hai wahi aawaaz” (The voice that traverses into the heart and touches the soul is the voice). Lata had that kind of ethereal voice that touched the souls: ‘Rooh se nikal kar roohon mein sama gayee/Aawaaz meri kai khwaab jaga gayee’ (Emanating from my soul, it got merged into numerous souls/My voice evoked many dreams). Her evocative voice awakened dreams and emotions in the hearts of her countless admirers and qadradaan (cognoscenti).

In Lata’s case, it’s not at all important that in a span of 75-plus years, she recorded 50,000 songs in 14 languages. Statistics cannot define her genius. She was a phenomenon. Lata was beyond all the superlatives, adjectives, epithets and attributes. Since tomes have been written on her and almost all the aspects of her singing as well as persona have been discussed threadbare and ad nauseam, it seems nothing new is left. But greats like Lata are unfathomably great. So, many facets still remain to be explored for, veil after veil will lift, but there must be veil upon veil behind.

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A still from 'Baharo, mera jeevan bhi sanwaro’

There’s a general tenor that Lata Mangeshkar was haughty, a trifle toffee-nosed and was not amenable to suggestions. Remember her immortal number, ‘Baharo, mera jeevan bhi sanwaro’ (‘Aakhri Khat’, 1966)? The lyricist was the redoubtable poet-lyricist Kaifi Azmi and the composer was Khyyaam. Khyyaam told me that when Lata sang it, Kaifi Azmi politely suggested that it was ‘baharo’ not ‘baharon’ because in Urdu/Hindi, a plural word is uttered without a nasal sound when it’s used as an address or ode. Moreover, ‘baharo’ gels and rhymes with ‘sanwaro’. Lata understood, apologised and sang ‘Baharo, mera jeevan bhi sanwaro’, immortalising it!

Lata was ever willing to learn and imbibe the nuances as well as enunciations. While singing her evergreen number, ‘Rahen na rahen hum’ (‘Mamta’, 1966), she was clueless about the actual meaning of these two lines: ‘Mausam koi ho iss chaman mein rang banke rahenge hum khiraamaan/Chahat ki khushboo yoon hi zulfon se udegi khizaan ho yaa baharaan’ (Let there be any season, I’ll be eternally here in this garden/The fragrance of desire will emanate from the tresses, whether autumn or spring). Majrooh Sultanpuri, who penned the songs of ‘Mamta’, explained it to Lata. She fully understood the meaning and sang it soulfully. “Until I understand a song completely, I don’t sing it,” she once said. That’s why, when you listen to her Bengali numbers, you think as if a native speaker is singing whereas Lata didn’t know Bengali!

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A still from ‘Gar tum bhula na doge’.

She believed in comprehending the essence and import of every song irrespective of the language. One more example can be cited to buttress the point. Anand Bakshi wrote a song, ‘Tu kitni achhi hai, tu kitni bholi hai, pyari pyari hai, oh ma’ (‘Raja Aur Runk’, 1968). There’s a line in the last stanza, ‘Woh qismat wale hote hain jinke ma hoti hai’. Lata was singing ‘jinko’ or ‘jinki ma hoti hai’. Anand Bakshi told her that in Urdu and Hindi, possession (has/have) is expressed by ke, not ko or ki. Lata was glad she had learnt a new thing.

While singing the famous duet, ‘Gar tum bhula na doge’ with Rafi (‘Yaqeen’, 1969), Lata uttered ‘hargij’, in lieu of ‘hargiz’. She later realised her mistake and even offered to pay for the re-recording, but the song was okayed as it is. It’s worthwhile to mention that when Lata was new to the music industry, the great Dilip Kumar wondered whether a daal-rice eater, slip of a Maharashtrian girl would be able to speak impeccable Urdu. Lata proved her Yusuf Bhai wrong, much to his delight.

That Lata sabotaged the career of many female singers is a humongous lie. When you already have the best voice available in the industry, why should producers, directors, lyricists and composers opt for the next best? It’s so simple and obvious. Iqbal Masood wrote of Lata Mangeshkar, “When you’re used to the very best, why should you go for the second best?” Though Lata imitated Noor Jahan during the beginning of her career, she soon found her own voice and eclipsed her. A Pakistani poet said, “Had Partition not taken place and Noor Jahan stayed put in India, Lata would have surpassed her.” I have seen the delirious craze for Lata during my visits to Pakistan.

On the flip side, some composers found Lata’s extremely dulcet and soft voice to be unsuitable for ghazal singing as it requires a slightly husky and heavy voice like that of Asha Bhosle, Farida Khanum, Begum Akhtar, etc. Though Lata sang many filmi ghazals under the baton of Madan Mohan, such as, ‘Na tum bewafa ho’, ‘Hai tere saath meri wafa’ and ‘Do dil toote, do dil haare’, they were all geetnuma ghazals, not typical ghazals.

Meena Kumari in ‘Mausam hai aashiqana’.

Composer OP Nayyar never gave Lata an opportunity to sing. He preferred Asha. But that doesn’t dwarf her status as one of the greatest voices ever to have graced the world of playback singing. Who can forget her songs like ‘Duniya kare sawaal toh hum kya jawaab dein’, ‘Phaili hui hain sapnon ki baahein’, ‘ Ajeeb daastaan hai ye’, ‘ Mausam hai aashiqana’, ‘Rahte thay kabhi jinke dil mein’, ‘Humne dekhi hai in aankhon ki’, ‘Dil ka diya jala ke gaya’, ‘Ye dil aur unki nigahon ke saaye’, ‘Aap yoon faaslon se guzarte rahe’, ‘Dheere-dheere machal ae dil-e-beqaraar’, ‘Chalte-chalte yoon hi koi’, to name but a few.

Like Mohd Rafi, Lata Mangeshkar, who passed away in 2022, observed the styles of the actresses and characters she sang for. She was an extremely discerning, dedicated and committed singer who practised till the end. She hated complacency. Hers was a once-in-a-millennium voice.

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